


Little Miss Moriarty

by redlipstickblackdress



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adorable John, Creepy Moriarty, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Lestrade has game, Murder, Sexy Times, Silver Fox Lestrade, cross-dressing, handcuff sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:53:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlipstickblackdress/pseuds/redlipstickblackdress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson meets a sweet girl at a tea shop and takes her on a series of accidentally disastrous dates.  Greg Lestrade meets an alluring female inspector from a different division of New Scotland Yard at a crime scene, but she isn't interested in dating.  Sherlock deduces that the person committing a string of seemingly unrelated thefts and murders is a woman--or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Began on a Snowy Night

Greg Lestrade was not happy to have to walk a couple miles in the snow to get to this crime scene. It didn’t snow particularly often in London, but when it did he seemed to always have to work in it. 

Anderson and Donovan were already there when he got to the crime scene, which was a bank building. There was also a woman with short layered red hair wearing a blouse and pencil skirt, and two men he didn’t recognize. The woman looked like she was in some position of authority, since she was standing and taking notes while the two men were examining the scene with gloves. 

“Hello,” he said. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, trying to figure out who, exactly, she was and why she was examining his crime scene. She flashed her ID. 

“Natalie Lattimer, New Scotland Yard,” she introduced in an American accent. “I’m here investigating a burglary.”

“Burglary? This is a murder case.” 

“It’s also a burglary case,” Lattimer said. “Somebody broke and entered into this high security bank building and stole thousands of dollars.” Lestrade nodded and went to look around, but Natalie stopped him. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“DI Greg Lestrade,” he introduced, also showing his New Scotland Yard badge. “What about the murder?” he asked. 

“Not my division, but I think it was the CEO. He’s in the office on the top floor,” she said. 

“Thank you. Donovan, Anderson,” Lestrade gestured to the two buffoons he frequently worked with. “Upstairs.” The two sergeants got into the elevator while Lestrade pulled out his phone. If there were two crimes in the same place at the same time, that sounded like a job only Sherlock Holmes could solve. While he waited for the world’s only consulting detective to arrive, he looked out at the snow. 

“Rough night to have to work, huh?” Lattimer’s voice said behind him. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he agreed. 

“I’d rather be at home with a warm fire and a glass of wine, but this is fun too,” she said sarcastically. 

“Sounds like a good night to me.” 

“Waiting for someone?” 

“Yeah, a…consultant.” 

“How do you know you need a consultant if you haven’t even looked at the crime scene yet?” she asked. 

“Because there’s something funny going on,” he said. Natalie just gave him an odd look and went back to work. The handsome ones were always the weird ones, she thought. For a brief moment she’d been attracted to him, even glanced at his hand to find that he wasn’t wearing a ring, although he had a faint trace of where one had previously rested. Probably some divorcee with a lot of baggage. She hoped the snow would stop soon – she had to walk home and she wasn’t exactly wearing galoshes and a parka. Just like she’d said…rough night to work.


	2. Tea for Two

Jasmine Greene had popped into the tea shop hoping to wait out the snow, but it had only gotten worse the longer the evening went on. She knew she should get home, but it was so warm and cozy in there and she was thoroughly enjoying her tea. She had tried to call her flatmate, but Natalie's phone was off, which usually only happened when she was working. Poor Natalie, having to deal with crime on a night like this. 

Jasmine was the only person in the tea shop for quite some time besides the poor soul who had to work that night, until a sandy-haired man entered wearing a gray cable-knit jumper and a black coat. He ordered some tea and sat at the table next to hers in the opposite chair, so he was facing her. They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment - neither of them had a book or anything to occupy them - then both stared out the window for a moment. Finally, the man spoke. 

“What are you doing out on a night like this?” he asked. 

“I could ask you the same question, but your answer seems to be the same as mine: having tea,” she answered. 

“Right,” he said, smiling as he realized how dumb his question must have seemed. “You don’t have tea at home?” 

“I have loads of tea at home. I just stopped in here to wait out the snow after work and now four hours later, it’s still snowing.” 

“If you wait it out, you’ll be here all night,” he said. 

“I suppose I should leave soon, but I was sitting here drinking tea by myself for so long that I wouldn’t want to leave you to that fate,” she laughed. 

“May I join you, then?” he asked. 

“Please do.” 

John got up and sat in the seat across from her at her table, getting a better look at her. She was quite small and had softly curled a shoulder-length brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and was wearing what appeared to be a vintage dress with thick tights and boots. She also had a red flower in her hair that matched her lipstick. She looked like she had walked out of a 1940s film. 

“John Watson,” he introduced. 

“Jasmine Greene.” 

They began chatting. John learned that Jasmine was the head chef at a restaurant simply named Jasmine’s Kitchen, and that she had moved to London from America a few years back. She heard about his past as an army doctor and his current semi-complicated life of being a colleague to a consulting detective. Just as the conversation was beginning to flow comfortably, John’s phone went off. 

“Oh, no, not now,” he said after he looked at it. 

“What is it? Is everything okay?” 

“It’s my flatmate, the consulting detective. He asked me to meet him. There’s been…well, I should go.” 

“Oh. Well, good luck, John Watson. It was lovely to meet you.” 

“Yes…I…could I call you sometime?” he asked. 

“Sure,” she smiled. She scribbled her number down on a napkin and handed it to him. He pocketed it and gave her a smile before rushing off to meet Sherlock Holmes.


	3. A Cab for Two

Natalie saw a tall, pale man with curly black hair enter wearing an overcoat and a scarf – it was hard to miss him. He walked in as if he owned the place. 

“Excuse me,” she said. “Who are you?” The man gave her a look as if she were some kind of lunatic. 

“I was invited by Lestrade,” he said, as if this should be obvious to her. 

“Sherlock, glad you could make it,” Lestrade said, walking up. “I don’t believe you’ve met Inspector Lattimer. She’s in charge of investigating the theft involved in this crime.” 

“I know that,” Sherlock said. “She is also single, just got out of a bad relationship, and lives with a flat mate. She and the flat mate moved here together from America. She lives for adventure, doesn’t check the weather reports, and, oh, that’s interesting, she seems to have an attraction to incompetent gray-haired detective inspectors,” he said, giving Lestrade a smug look. Lestrade looked at him like he couldn’t decide if he should focus on the insult or the fact that Natalie Lattimer was attracted to him. 

“Do you have a point?” Natalie asked, unimpressed. 

“Where is the corpse?” Sherlock asked, ready to get to work. 

“Upstairs, top floor,” Lestrade said. Just then, another man walked in. 

“Ah, John, there you are,” Sherlock said. “My colleage, John Watson,” he introduced flippantly to Natalie before they went into the elevator and disappeared. 

“That’s a cool trick he’s got there. He must be loads of fun at parties,” Natalie said. 

“Fun’s not exactly the word I’d use,” Lestrade said, remembering the Christmas party a couple weeks ago when Sherlock had offhandedly revealed that Lestrade’s wife was cheating on him as well as offending John’s date and accidentally hurting Molly’s feelings, although he’d apologized for that. Lestrade knew that Sherlock meant well and quite genuinely never meant to insult anyone, but his bluntness was something that many people didn’t understand, especially if they didn’t know him. 

“I like him. He must be helpful in murder cases.” 

“Sadly, he’s the only one who can solve them a lot of the time.” 

Lestrade went to look at the crime scene with Sherlock. Lestrade examined the body and the scene, then left Sherlock to his work, returning to the lobby. Soon after that, Sherlock returned and approached Lestrade and Lattimer.

“You’re looking for a woman, about 5 feet, 8 inches tall,” Sherlock said. 

“The thief and the murderer are the same person, then?” Lestrade asked for clarity. 

“Of course they’re the same person, that’s obvious.” 

“Enlighten me,” Lestrade said. He had assumed it was one person anyway, but it helped to hear what Sherlock had noticed. 

“Perfume. Musky, probably French, left over on the body of the victim. Chips of red nail varnish, on the victim’s desk, there were also some in the bank vault. High heel marks in the carpet of the victim’s office, the distance of the foot prints indicates her height.” 

Lestrade scribbled these details down. The CEO had been strangled. His office was completely intact with nothing missing. Lestrade decided that any interviews and research could be done in the morning, and made sure the clean-up crew was off to a good start before leaving. By the time he got out of there, most everyone else had already left. 

“Are you walking home?” she asked. 

“No, I think I’ll get a cab. I’d rather not be frozen solid by the time I get home.” 

“Where do you live?” He told her the address as she hailed a cab. It stopped. “My flat is right on the way. Want to share one?” 

“Thank you,” he said, getting in behind her. 

“So, what’s the story with that Shamrock guy?” 

“Who? Oh, Sherlock. Who knows? John Watson's the person he’s closest to, and even he can’t figure him out half the time.” 

“Then why do you trust him?” 

“Because he’s usually right. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s never steered me wrong. He’s a good man, Sherlock Holmes, no matter what anybody says. We’re not close, and we never will be, but I know one thing: I would trust him with my life.” 

“Well, since this is my case too, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.” 

“You won’t regret it. He’ll drive you mad, but you’ll thank him later.” 

“I guess I’ll find out. This is my stop. I guess we’ll be working together. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“Alright. Good night, then.” 

“Good night.”


	4. Wine After Work

Jasmine was relieved when Natalie finally came in the door. It was good to know that she was safe, what with the snow, the late night, and her line of work. 

“Please tell me you didn’t drink all the wine,” Natalie said, collapsing onto the couch next to her best friend. 

“No, there’s plenty. I already poured you a glass,” Jasmine said, handing her said glass. 

“Thank goodness. You’re the best.” 

“Long day?” 

“You have no idea. There was this big robbery and murder at a bank.” 

“Oh, no! That’s terrible! Wait, but you don’t usually investigate murders.” 

“No, I was there investigating the robbery. There was another team there to check out the murder. There were these two bumbling sergeants led by a ruggedly handsome DI, and he called in some broody private investigator and his plucky sidekick. I felt like I was in some kind of wacky comedy…except for the murder, of course.” 

“Ruggedly handsome DI, huh? Single?” 

“Divorced, I think. I’m going to be working with him a lot on this case,” Natalie said. 

“So, are you interested?” Jasmine asked, knowing her flatmate far too well.

“I don’t know. It’s a bad idea to get involved with people you work with. Besides, it’s not like I need some guy who’s all damaged from his divorce.” 

“Well, who knows?” 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s not really important,” Natalie shrugged, taking a large sip of wine. 

“I met a man today,” Jasmine said with a smile. 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yeah. His name is John Watson, and he’s cute—”

“Did you say John Watson?” 

“Yeah…” 

“The assistant of that consulting investigator guy was named John Watson.” 

“Well, the one I met has sort of sandy blond hair, and was wearing a gray jumper and a black coat.” 

“That’s him,” Natalie confirmed. “I didn’t really talk to him much, but he seemed nice.” 

“He is! He talked to me while I was camping out in the tea shop. He sort of rushed away because his flatmate texted him – that must be the investigator you met. He asked for my number, though.” 

“Do you think he’ll call?” 

“I hope so. We didn’t talk for very long but I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better,” Jasmine admitted.

“Well, he’d be crazy not to. Any guy who wouldn’t kill for a gorgeous girl who can cook is insane.” 

The women continued talking about their days until they were too tired to stay up any longer and went to bed.


	5. Comfort Food

The next day, John Watson opened his computer and typed “Jasmine’s Kitchen” into the search bar. 

“Are you craving comfort food?” Sherlock’s voice said near John’s left ear. The shorter man jumped, having no idea that his flatmate had been standing behind him looking over his shoulder. 

“Sherlock, you can’t sneak up on me like that. I almost had a heart attack.” 

“If you’re going out for lunch, I’ll come with you,” Sherlock said. 

“No…no, I met the woman who owns this restaurant last night. I want to see when it closes so that I can call her when she’s not working and ask her out.” 

“What happened to Jeanette?” 

“Oh, now you remember her name. If you must know, she dumped me after the Christmas party.” 

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Sherlock said as if he didn’t really mean it and was thinking about something else entirely. John’s perpetual stream of girlfriends was unimportant to him.

“Yes, well, maybe this one will stay around if you don’t scare her away,” John said. Sherlock snapped out of his thought process to stare at John for a moment thoughtfully. Then he grabbed his coat and scarf and began putting them on. 

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said. 

“What…go where?” 

“Lunch. I haven’t had any in three days.” 

“That doesn’t usually bother you.” 

“No, but it bothers you. Come on, then.” 

“But where are we going?” a very confused John wanted to know as he grabbed his coat. 

“Comfort food.”


	6. Footage and Flirting

Natalie found the office of DI Greg Lestrade and knocked on the open door. 

“Come in,” he said. “I got the security camera footage from the bank. Figured we could watch it together.” 

“Security footage? Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she said sarcastically. Looking at security camera footage was one of her least favorite things about her job. Talk about boring. 

“Well, I would have caught you a criminal but it was too hard to find,” he replied. Woah, was he flirting with her? That was the last thing she needed. She was already way more attracted to the man than she cared to be, not to mention that now that she was sitting next to him, she discovered that he smelled better than should be legal. 

“Should we do this over coffee?” she asked coyly. What was that? Was she flirting back? She tried to mentally tell herself to stop it. 

“I know I’ll need some,” Lestrade admitted, then called his assistant and asked her to bring two coffees. When the two were appropriately caffeinated, Lestrade pressed play on the security footage and began sipping their coffee while they looked at the boring video. 

They watched the footage for about an hour, although it felt like a lot longer. Since the crime had been committed shortly after closing, they mostly just saw custodians wheeling around cleaning supplies. 

“The list of things I’d rather do than watch this footage is growing by the second,” Natalie said. “Sticking my face in a bag of wet, angry cats just made the list.” 

“It’s a bit unconventional, but not the strangest thing a girl’s wanted me to do,” he said casually. 

“Would you stop doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

“Flirting with me!”

“Then stop flirting back,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I’m not. I’m not trying to. Just…can we just watch the footage?” 

“That’s what we’re doing.” 

“Good. Wait, hold on, what is that?” she asked, pointing at the screen. The security footage of the bank had stopped and now the screen was showing a random young woman in her house, making food in her kitchen. 

“Who is that?” Lestrade asked. 

“I don’t know…hey, maybe you should call that buddy of yours, the one with the weird name.” 

“Sherlock? Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed, and picked up his phone.


	7. A Date is Made

When Sherlock and John were seated at Jasmine’s Kitchen and given menus, two waitresses came into the kitchen while Jasmine was chopping vegetables. 

“They are so cute! The blond one could do whatever he wants to me,” Samantha said.

“I like the tall one,” said Madeline. 

“Did attractive men come in again?” Jasmine asked. Some of her waitresses were shameless flirts. 

“Yes. You should go look at them, Jasmine. They aren’t wearing rings.” 

“Maybe they’re gay,” she pointed out. 

“I don’t think so,” Samantha shook her head. “Come on, you should look. When was the last time you had a date?” 

“I’m not going to hit on my customers,” Jasmine laughed, but looked out the window of the kitchen. “Oh!” 

“We told you they’re attractive,” Madeline said. 

“Do I look okay?” Jasmine asked. 

“I thought you don’t hit on customers.” 

“I’ve already met one of them.” 

“Oh. Well, go talk to him! Thomas can hold up the kitchen for a few minutes,” Samantha assured her. 

Jasmine took her employee’s advice and smoothed out her apron, then walked out of the kitchen. John looked up and saw her, waving as she made her way over. 

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hello. Jasmine, this is my friend Sherlock.” 

“How do you do?” Sherlock asked politely, his gaze scrutinizing her. 

“Good, thank you. It’s nice to meet you. You two can order anything you want, on the house.” 

“That’s very kind, thank you,” John said with a smile. “While I’ve got you here, I was wondering if you might be free for a date tomorrow night?”

“I might be,” she said. “What did you have in mind?” 

“A film?” 

“Art show,” Sherlock said, not looking up from his phone. 

“A film or an art show,” John corrected, trusting Sherlock perhaps against his better judgment. 

“I like films and art,” Jasmine said. 

“Good. Great. I’ll call you tonight?” 

“Perfect.” 

When she was gone, Sherlock pocketed his phone. 

“Well, are you done? Let’s go, then.” 

“What? We haven’t eaten yet. Where are we going?” 

“Lestrade needs me.” 

“Well, then you go. I’m going to stay here and have lunch,” John pouted. 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

“I will,” John said. Sherlock left and John sat and had a delicious lunch and a relaxing afternoon at his flat until he could call Jasmine and make the arrangements for their date.


	8. That Damn Charming DI

Natalie had ordered another martini and was sipping it awkwardly while she sat by herself. She had gone out for drinks with a co-worker, but she had left early and Natalie was left alone. When she was about halfway through her martini, a handsome man with silver hair and brown eyes sat down at the bar in the seat next to her and ordered a pint. He turned and smiled at her, and she sighed when she realized it was Greg Lestrade. 

“Are you stalking me?” she asked. He took a sip of his beer before he answered. 

“No, if I were stalking you I wouldn’t sit next to you in plain sight.” 

“Touche.” 

They turned back to their drinks, not saying anything for a few moments. An incredibly drunk man sidled up to Natalie, leering at her. 

“So, what are you doing later tonight?” he slurred. She glanced to Greg for help, but he was whispering to the bartender.

“Not you,” she said immediately to the guy. 

“Oh, come on, why don’t we have a little fun?” he pushed, putting a hand on her ass. She grabbed his hand and tossed it away from her. 

“Darling, I keep saying we shouldn’t go out when we’re getting our rings cleaned. You always have men come onto you when you aren’t wearing your ring,” Greg said nonchalantly. 

“You’re right, of course, dear,” she said, relieved. 

“You’re married to this old guy?” the drunk asked. “What, is he rich or somethin’?” 

“Nah, he’s just damn good in bed,” she replied casually. The man just looked uncomfortable and walked away. As soon as he was gone, she half-smiled at Greg before finishing her martini. “You’re alright,” she said. “I might even let you buy me a drink.” 

“I already have,” he responded, just as the bartender set another martini in front of her. 

“Alright. I have to admit, that was smooth,” she told him with a smile. 

“Are you opposed to me flirting with you always, or just while we’re at work?” he asked. She hesitated for a moment. 

“I just got out of a bad relationship…” 

“As did I. In fact, I’m finalizing my divorce this week.” 

“I also don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved with people you work with.” 

“It can be a tricky situation,” he agreed. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.” That was actually quite sincere.

“No, not really. I mean, you did give me coffee, but it wasn’t too out of line.” 

“How about we work in your office tomorrow and you can return the favor?” he suggested. 

“That would even things out,” she agreed. She had to stop flirting with him, but it was so hard. 

“It’s a date…by which I mean it’s a purely professional meeting,” he said. 

“Perfect.” By then she’d finished her new martini and decided to brave the cold, the whole time while she was walking home thinking about that damn charming DI.


	9. A Second Crime

When it was brought to New Scotland Yard’s attention that there had been another break in and murder, Lestrade and Natalie rode over to the house together. They were surprised when the murder victim ended up being the woman they had seen in the replaced security footage. 

She was a woman in her early 30s, single, and living alone. Her flat had been broken into, but without signs of a typical break-in. One of the neighbors confirmed that some seemingly random things were missing from the victim’s apartment, but didn’t report hearing or seeing anything suspicious. 

The victim’s throat had been slit in one swift motion. 

“Do you think there’s any connection to the bank?” Natalie asked. 

“Why do you say that? They don’t have very much in common,” Greg responded.

“Because she’s the girl from the video, the one that was recorded over the security camera footage from the bank.” 

“What other connection do they have, I wonder? If there’s a serial killer, there must be a pattern.” 

“I don’t know…in both cases there was a robbery and a murder, but that’s all I’ve got so far. Maybe your friend should take a look?” 

“I’ll call him now.” 

About twenty minutes later, Sherlock and John appeared at the house. 

“Do you think it’s the same person as the bank?” Lestrade asked when Sherlock had a chance to look around. 

“Of course it’s the same person, it’s obvious. Her perfume permeates everything. The question is, who is Michael Jones?” 

“Who?” Lestrade asked. 

“Michael Jones. Oh, you people are so unobservant. Michael Jones, the name written on her arm under her sleeve. The victim didn’t write it, it’s obviously not her handwriting. The killer put it there. It’s a clue, but who is he?” 

“Now how in the bloody hell would I know that?” Lestrade asked. Sherlock just stared at him. “Anderson, Donovan, stop flirting. Get to work,” Lestrade said, annoyed. The two sergeants looked annoyed and embarrassed, but began examining the scene. 

“Find out who he is,” Sherlock insisted. “I’m going back to Baker Street; I need to think.” 

With that, he was gone, leaving John behind. John, who was quite used to this, just nodded awkwardly at everyone and left to find his own way home. 

“I think we’d better get back to the office and look into this Michael Jones. Shall we?” Lestrade said to Natalie. 

“Your place or mine?” Natalie asked. She seriously had to stop doing that. It was completely inappropriate and generally a bad idea. 

“Well, you have a bigger computer.” 

“You have more comfortable chairs,” she pointed out. 

“Well, I never know when I’ll have company.” 

“Are you going to tidy up for me, then?” 

“I only do that for beautiful women.” 

“Should I be offended?” 

“I didn’t say I’m not going to tidy up,” he said. “Shall we?” 

They got into a cab to return to his office, where he promptly tidied up his files before offering her a seat while they researched Michael Jones.


	10. Disaster Date

When John picked Jasmine up from her flat, she was wearing a vintage Asian-style black dress that held on tightly to her curves. When she opened her door, his mouth hung open for a moment before he collected himself. 

“You look lovely,” he said. 

“Thank you.” He looked good himself in a nice blue shirt and khaki pants. 

They got into a cab and went to an art show. Jasmine loved it, telling John about certain artistic styles and commenting on what she liked about certain pieces. He just enjoyed watching her enthusiasm. 

“This is by far the prettiest one in the room,” Jasmine said about a colorful painting of a jazz band. 

“No, it’s not,” John said, looking directly at Jasmine. She noticed his gaze and blushed while he smiled at her. Once she had caught his meaning, he turned to look at the painting. Jasmine glanced over, then took John’s hand. He looked down at their hands and smiled again. They continued walking around and looking at the art. John made sure not to crowd her too much, allowing her to look at something for as long as she wanted to without peering over her shoulder. 

He was looking at a sculpture when two children ran past him, causing him to take a step back. This made him bump into something, and when he turned around, he saw that the large metal sculpture behind him was tipping. 

“Jasmine, look out!” he shouted, running to push her out of the way before the sculpture hit her on the head. She turned around just in time as the sculpture clanged loudly to the ground, part of it hitting Jasmine in the face. Everyone gasped and turned to see what had happened. Jasmine’s hands covered her face and she was whimpering in pain. 

“Ow…ow…” she said. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Jasmine. I am so sorry. Are you alright?” 

“Is the sculpture okay?” she asked. 

“Yes, yes, it’s fine. I caused a bit of a scene, but…are you alright? Let me see,” he said, trying to move her hands. Finally he pried them off her face to see that she had a huge black eye and a cut on the bridge of her nose. “Oh god. Oh god, Jasmine. I’m so, so sorry. I…perhaps I should take you home.” 

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m…ow…yeah, maybe it would be best if I went home.” 

They got back into a cab, John apologizing profusely the entire ride, and Jasmine assuring him that it was an accident. When they got to her flat, he helped her inside and onto the couch. 

“I’ll get you some ice.” 

“The kitchen’s over there,” she pointed. He rushed in there and grabbed a bag of frozen corn from the freezer, putting it onto her eye. 

“Jasmine, I feel terrible,” he said. 

“It was an accident, it’s okay,” she said calmly. 

“I…you probably don’t want to go out with me ever again.” 

“Actually, I was just thinking that I was hoping you’d ask me out again,” she said. 

“You must have been on even worse dates than this one,” he said, surprised. 

“Until this happened, it was lovely,” she said. 

“Please allow me to try again. I promise that the second date won’t be like this.” 

“Alright,” she smiled. “Will you call me tomorrow?” 

“I promise.” 

“I really did have a good time.” 

“Will you be alright?” 

“Yes, I’ll be fine, just a bit sore. Thank you for taking me,” she said. He was about to get up when she pulled him back down by the sleeve. He looked at her confusedly, and she pressed her lips to his cheek lightly. A huge smile spread over his face. “Goodnight, John.” 

“Goodnight, Jasmine. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” she laughed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.” 

“Alright. Goodnight.” He let himself out, amazed that she was giving him another chance.


	11. Baker Street Boys

“How was the date?” Sherlock asked when John came in. John was actually a bit surprised that Sherlock had even remembered about the date, and even more surprised that he was interested in how it had gone. 

“I gave her a black eye,” John said shamefully. 

“Is that an expression?” Sherlock asked, confused. 

“No. I actually gave her a black eye.” 

“Perhaps, John, you should reconsider your methods of pursuing women. You might find that the reason they don’t stick around has little to do with me,” the consulting detective said sarcastically. 

“Alright, alright, I get it. Why are you suddenly so interested in my love life, anyway?” 

“I’m not, I’m just trying to get on your good side.” 

“Why is that?” John asked, a bit frightened. 

“Because I threw your watch into the fire,” he said nonchalantly.

“You what?! When…how…why?!” 

“It was an experiment. I was bored. Besides, you left it here and it was making an annoying noise.” 

“I…you…did it ever occur to you that I might want to keep that?” 

“We can shop for a new one tomorrow,” Sherlock shrugged. 

“You don’t get it…oh, never mind,” he gave up. The man was hopeless. The only thing that kept him from being irreparably cross was the thought that he had another date with Jasmine in the near future.


	12. Chinese Food and Cheating Exes

Greg and Natalie were at the office pretty late, and didn’t want to stop working, so Greg offered to move the operation to his flat, where he would order Chinese and they could work where it was more comfortable. They hopped in a cab and made their way to his flat, where he quickly shoved some things around to make the place look cleaner, to Natalie’s amusement. 

They got onto the couch with their files spread out over the coffee table and their laptops open, examining photographs, making note of people they should interview, and looking in their database to see if there were any similar cases from the past that might lead them in the right direction. When the food got there, they ate it out of the cartons while they continued working.   
After a while, their brains were a bit fried so they decided to take a break. Lestrade put the leftovers in his fridge and asked Natalie if she wanted some wine. Needing a drink at this point, she accepted and he poured them each a glass. 

“This is a nice flat you’ve got here,” she said, looking around before taking a sip. 

“Thank you.” 

“How long have you lived here?” 

“Not long. Just since my wife and I separated.” 

“Ah. May I ask what happened?” Natalie wanted to know. 

“She cheated on me with a PE teacher.” 

“Really? That’s a funny coincidence. I just got out of a relationship with a PE teacher. He also cheated on me, with some cheap blonde named Lyla.” 

“My ex’s name is Lyla…what was your PE teacher’s name?” 

“Jeff.”

“Oh my god…” Lestrade’s eyes widened. 

“Your ex was the trashy blonde bitch?” 

“Yours was that wanker of a PE teacher?” 

“I can’t believe you were married to that skank!” Natalie started laughing at the hilarity of the entire thing. 

“Now hold on just a minute, you’re the one who was in a serious relationship with that muscle-bound blockhead,” Greg retorted. 

“Touche. He wore cologne, but somehow always still managed to smell like sweaty socks.” 

“I know, Lyla came home smelling like him a few times.” They both started laughing at how ridiculous everything was, and what a crazy coincidence it was that both of their exes had cheated on them with each other. “Well, if you ask me, you deserve better than him anyway,” Greg continued. Natalie had never heard a man say something like that to her, and it had a stronger affect than she would have liked. Before she knew it, she had leaned in and started kissing him. 

He instinctively kissed back, not minding one bit, and placed a hand on the back of her neck. A few moments later, she realized what she was doing and stopped abruptly. 

“I have to go,” she said suddenly, gathering up files and closing her laptop. “It’s getting late, we can keep working on this tomorrow.” 

“Wait, you don’t have to—”

“No, I really should leave,” she insisted. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she added, breezing out the door quickly. Greg just rested his head in his hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. She had kissed him, yet she acted completely freaked out. What was that about?


	13. Disaster Date, The Sequel

For their second date, John decided that perhaps dinner and a film would be safer than the art show had been. He picked Jasmine up from her flat and was once again reminded of how disastrous his previous attempt had been. She had tried to conceal some of the darkness around her eye with makeup, but the blue-ish tone of the skin was still showing through quite obviously. However, she still looked beautiful in a white dress. 

They went to see the film first, a new adaptation of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. The film portion of the date went very well. John was thrilled when she rested her head on his shoulder, and responded by putting his arm around her. 

Next they walked to a French restaurant – he remembered that when they had chatted before she’d mentioned that she liked French food – and he ordered them a bottle of wine to sip on while they waited for their meal. 

They ate while happily exchanging glances, smiles, and conversation. When their plates were cleared, they sat and chatted for a bit while they finished their wine. 

Ultimately, everything was going perfectly…until John attempted to reach across the table to take her hand. He was in a bit of a trance looking at her face, so when he reached for her hand, he accidentally knocked over his glass of red wine, which proceeded to empty right into her lap, staining her white dress a deep crimson. 

“Oh god…I am so sorry…” he motioned for the waiter to bring the check. “Look, my flat isn’t far from here…my landlady might be able to get the stain out, if we get there quickly…I’m so sorry! If you’d like to stop by, perhaps we can save your dress.” 

“Sure, we can stop by. Thank you.” 

John tossed some cash onto the table and then rushed them outside and into a cab, and in a couple minutes they were at 221B Baker Street. 

“Mrs. Hudson!” John shouted once they were in the door. 

“I’m right here, dear, there’s no need to shout,” she said a bit crossly, coming up the stairs. When she saw Jasmine’s dress, she gasped. “Oh, my…you poor dear! What happened?” 

“I’m afraid I spilled my wine on her,” John explained, embarrassed. 

“John, you take her right upstairs and give her something to wear,” she said pointedly. “Now, he’ll make you a nice cuppa and we’ll see if I can’t make it white as snow again.” 

“Thank you,” Jasmine said with a smile. John rushed her upstairs and gave her his robe to put on while she was waiting to hear the verdict on her dress. He made her some tea and they sat on the couch while Mrs. Hudson tried to clean up the wine stain. 

“Usually when I try to impress a woman, it doesn’t go this badly,” he said apologetically. 

“Well, you still managed to get me out of my dress,” she joked. John smiled. 

“Yes, I suppose I did.” 

“Maybe I should be in charge of the next date,” she surmised. 

“The next—you mean, you want to go out again?” 

“Oh…sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I meant, if you want to—”

“I’d love to. I just thought after a black eye and a stained dress you’d have given up on me.” 

“I’ve been on plenty of dates that were absolutely perfect, but it never ended up that the guy was right,” she explained. John thought he knew what she meant – it was more about how she felt when she was with him than it was about what actually happened on their dates. “So, since you haven’t had the best of luck, next time I’ll take you out. I’ve got it all under control.”

“Alright,” he smiled. “I look forward to it.” 

They looked at each other for a moment, and then before John knew what was happening, she had leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his. The kiss only lasted a moment, but it was wonderful. He couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face again. It happened a lot when he was with Jasmine. 

“What was that for?” he asked. 

“I just wanted to,” she blushed. Right then, someone burst through the open doorway. 

“John, I need to borrow your—oh…hello.” 

“Jasmine, this is my flat mate, Sherlock.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jasmine said politely. 

“Yes…most of it is gossip, I’m sure…” Sherlock said. 

“You’re brilliant, according to John’s blog,” she added. John gave Sherlock a proud look. Sherlock thought nobody read John’s blog. 

“Of course I’m brilliant,” he said bluntly, then turned away from her. “John, I need to borrow your computer.” 

“You do have your own computer,” John pointed out. 

“Yes, but it’s in my bedroom. Yours is right here.” 

“Fine, go ahead. The password is—”

“I know, it’s not hard to guess,” Sherlock said, typing it in. John rolled his eyes. Mrs. Hudson came back and said that the dress was clean, but still needed more time to dry. She refused to allow Jasmine to leave in a wet dress, insisting that she would freeze if she wore it out of the flat. 

John poured her another cup of tea and lit a fire while she waited for her dress to dry, then returned to the couch and she curled into his side while he put his arm around her.   
They continued talking until Jasmine’s dress was dry, and then John insisted on seeing her home safely. They rode in a cab to her flat and he walked her to her door. 

“Goodnight,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promised, leaning in for another kiss. “Goodnight.”


	14. Sherlock Gets Kissed

When Natalie went in to work with Lestrade the next day, she felt incredibly awkward about it. She had no idea what had come over her the previous night when she’d kissed him. Although she wanted to think that it was just because he was being nice to her and she’d had some wine, she knew that wasn’t the case. She liked him, and she had to figure out how to stop. 

“Alright, so I looked up every Michael Jones in London. Unfortunately, there are a lot. Perhaps there’s a way we can narrow it down.” 

“I’ve got Sherlock on his way, he might be able to help.” With that, he closed the door to his office. “In the meantime…maybe we should talk about last night.” 

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” Natalie said breezily. 

“You kissed me,” he prompted. 

“It was just the wine,” she lied. “It didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry if you thought it did.” 

“I’m not stupid, you know. I understand that us working together makes things a bit dodgy, but it’s only for this one case, it won’t be an issue when it’s over.” 

“Look, a kiss doesn’t always mean more than a kiss.” At that moment, Sherlock happened to walk in, John in tow, just in time to get the surprise of his life. To prove her point, Natalie walked right up to the consulting detective, grabbed him by the face, and gave him a big kiss on the mouth. “See what I mean?” she finished to Lestrade. 

“If you’re trying to prove to Lestrade that there was no emotion involved when you kissed, you’re not doing a very good job,” Sherlock said bluntly. 

“How did you know that we kissed?” Lestrade demanded. 

“Oh, don’t be dull. It’s obvious,” was all he said. Meanwhile, Natalie’s face was bright red. 

“I’m sorry…what’s going on, exactly?” John asked, incredibly confused. This got them back on track regarding the case, which Sherlock was quite happy about.


	15. Not Bored

Natalie was unprepared the next day when Lestrade burst into her office while she was eating her chicken Caesar salad. 

“Lattimer, you might want to come along.” 

“What’s going on?” 

“Michael Jones.” 

“You found him?” 

“Yes…although we were a bit too late. He’s been poisoned,” Greg said darkly. Natalie grabbed her coat and they went to investigate. On the way, Lestrade called Sherlock to join them.   
It didn’t take long for Sherlock to ascertain that this was connected to the other two murder/burglaries. It wasn’t until he found tiny, almost indiscernible writing scratched into the inside of the victim’s wallet that he came to a new conclusion. 

NOT BORED, ARE YOU? :) 

“It’s Moriarty,” he said. 

“What?” Lestrade asked. 

“Moriarty. He’s behind this.” 

“I thought you said it was a woman.” 

“It is a woman…he has an accomplice. A redhead. See this piece of hair? Get it analyzed. It should lead us right to her.” 

Lestrade bagged the hair and got it sent to a lab, as well as scribbling down some details about the scene and writing down what Sherlock observed. It was about 8:00pm when they all could finally leave. 

“Are you hungry?” Lestrade asked Natalie while they waited for a cab. 

“Starving,” she admitted. 

“Let’s go get some dinner. On me.” 

“It’s not a date,” she insisted. 

“Didn’t say it was,” he challenged, giving her a ‘you’re the one who said it, not me’ look that made her blush. 

“Good. Let’s go.”


	16. In Jasmine's Kitchen

Meanwhile, John and Jasmine were meeting up for their third date. Jasmine, insisting on being the host of the entire date, picked John up at 221B Baker Street. As soon as he saw her, he pulled her into a kiss. 

“Well, hello,” she smiled. 

From there they went to Jasmine’s Kitchen, which was closed. She took him through a back door into the kitchen, turned on all the lights, and grabbed an apron. 

“What is this?” he asked with a smile. 

“I’m making you dinner,” she explained. “I figured I’d use the big fancy kitchen instead of mine.” She tossed him an apron too. “You get to be my sous-chef.” 

“Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to be around knives and fire after the last couple of dates?” he pointed out. 

“It’ll be fine. I promise.” 

Together, they chopped, stirred, and sprinkled until a shepherd’s pie was in the oven. While it baked, she poured them each some wine and they cleaned up the kitchen together. Finally, they sat at one of the tables by candlelight and ate the delicious meal. He helped her wash the plates and then she closed everything up again. Even though Jasmine was supposed to be in charge for the evening, John insisted on seeing her home safely. 

After many praises from John about pulling off a non-disastrous date and quite a substantial kiss at her door, she went inside with a smile.


	17. A Non-Date

Lestrade and Lattimer went to a tapas bar for dinner, deciding that they could also use a drink after the day they’d had. They sat at the bar, ordered drinks, and each ordered a plate of food that they could share. Although Natalie kept insisting it wasn’t a date, it certainly would seem like one to any observer; or, in particular, two observers. 

“Greg?” a woman’s voice said behind them. Greg turned and looked rather pale when he saw the couple standing there. 

“Lyla!” 

“Nat?” Lyla’s date said, and Natalie turned to find herself face-to-face with her ex-PE-teacher-boyfriend. 

“Oh, hello, Don,” Natalie replied dryly. 

“I didn’t know you two got together!” Don said, as if this were some romantic comedy where the two victims of unfaithful significant others got together and everyone lived happily ever after to the tune of some sassy gospel song. 

“Oh…we’re not…” Greg stammered, not wanting to make Natalie uncomfortable. However, she pointedly placed her hand on Greg’s upper thigh. 

“We’re not at all surprised to see you two still together,” she retorted. “You’re just so…suitable for one another.” Lyla and Don beamed at each other, oblivious to the insult behind the words. Lyla also couldn’t help but glance down at Natalie’s hand on Greg’s thigh. The woman clearly hadn’t expected him to be doing well so soon after their divorce was finalized. 

“It’s been…interesting seeing you both again, but if you don’t mind, we’d like to finish our dinner,” Greg said, putting his arm around Natalie. “I just can’t wait to take this one home,” he said suggestively, kissing the side of her neck. Natalie giggled. 

“Greg, stop it, not here,” she laughed, then gave him a kiss on the lips just for good measure. Lyla and Don looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Right…it was good to see you, Greg,” Lyla said, looking disappointed. 

“What? Oh, right, bye,” Greg said as if distracted. 

As soon as Lyla and Don were out the door, Natalie and Greg burst into laughter. 

“Thank you for that,” Greg said sincerely. 

“I wasn’t about to let them think we’re losers who can’t get dates.” 

“Speak for yourself. I could get a date.” 

“You couldn’t get me to go on one with you,” she pointed out. 

“You’re the one who keeps kissing me, remember? You’re still insisting this isn’t a date?” he joked. 

“That was the agreement.” 

“Then you can pay for your half,” he said, his eyes sparkling with snark. 

“Fine.” 

“Good.” 

They continued their meal and finally finished, sipping on what was left of their drinks. Natalie excused herself for a moment. While she was in the restroom, the bartender gave Greg their check. When Natalie returned, Greg was signing the receipt. 

“Wait, I didn’t pay for mine,” she said. 

“I know,” he said with a slightly smug smile. He got up and helped her on with her coat, and she couldn’t help but admit to herself that she was totally smitten. He saw her home, and before she unlocked the door she turned to him. 

“Thank you for the excellent non-date,” she said sincerely. “I might be free tomorrow night, but I’m hoping someone will ask me out.” 

“Maybe he will,” he teased. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” she responded, leaning against her door once she was inside. She tried to scold herself for liking him, but she couldn’t even do that anymore.


	18. John Spends the Night

Jasmine heard a knock on her door about an hour after John had left. She had already showered and changed into her pajamas, but she figured it was probably just Natalie having forgotten her keys or something. However, she was surprised instead to find John at the door. 

“John?” She suddenly realized that her hair was wet and that she had no makeup on and blushed. “Did you…forget something?” 

“Jasmine, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I didn’t know where else to go. Sherlock and I got into a fight, you see, and I was wondering if I might stay the night,” he explained as if a bit ashamed.

“Of course you can. I’m sorry about the fight. I hope everything’s okay.”

“It will be tomorrow. I just needed some space is all.”

“Well, come on in,” she said. “I’m afraid I was just about to go to bed, but you’re welcome to stay up if you’d like.” 

“Thank you. I’m exhausted, actually. If I could just borrow a blanket, I’ll be fine here on the sofa,” he shrugged. 

“Oh…oh. I just assumed you’d want to share my bed,” she blushed, realizing her error. 

“Oh, right,” John smiled. “That would actually…yeah…I’d like that…if it’s alright with you, that is.” 

“Well, yeah. Come on in,” she smiled, gesturing for him to follow her. They went into her bedroom and she closed the door, and she suddenly realized that he didn’t have anything to change into. He took off his shoes and was about to get into bed. “Oh, you don’t have to sleep in your clothes. Here,” she said, opening a closet and pulling out a pair of men’s pajama pants. “My brother left these here the last time he visited. They should fit you.” 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and leaving on the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He went into the connecting bathroom to change into the pants and came out a moment later to find her already in bed. 

He got in on the other side, making sure to keep a polite distance, and turned off the light. He expected her to just roll over and go to sleep, but instead she scooted over, kissed him soundly on the lips, and then snuggled into his chest. 

He fell asleep thinking about how amazing Jasmine was. Funny, understanding, affectionate: she was like a walking list of everything he liked in a woman. With these thoughts, he wrapped his arms around her and was soon asleep with sweet dreams.


	19. The Morning After

Jasmine awoke and found that she was alone in bed. She stretched and was about to get up when her door opened and Natalie entered carrying two cups of coffee. She handed her friend one of them.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Natalie asked. “Perhaps having to do with the fact that there’s a cute man cooking breakfast in our kitchen?” 

“He’s making breakfast?” Jasmine smiled. 

“Don’t change the subject. Elaborate.” 

“John got in a fight with his flatmate after our date last night and asked if he could crash here.” 

“Okay, fair. His flat mate is nice, but I can see how he’d be a bit much at times. And then?” 

“And then I let him in and we went to sleep.” 

“You didn’t do anything with him?” 

“No, just cuddled,” Jasmine said. Natalie raised her eyebrows. “Okay, and made out. But that’s it.” 

“Well, he’s making bacon in there, so I completely approve of him.”

“Good…because I really like him. In other news, you were out late last night. Work or play?” Jasmine asked. 

“Both. I was working, and then Greg and I went out for dinner and drinks.” 

“You went on a date?!” 

“No, I refused to let it be called a date.” 

“Natalie…you like him. More than you’re admitting, I know you too well. And he obviously likes you too. John says he’s a great guy. You should give him a chance.” 

“I’m planning on it. I strongly suggested to him last night that he should properly ask me out. I hope he does.” 

“He will.” 

“Let’s go get some of that breakfast,” Natalie said. The two girls went to the kitchen and ate while chatting with John. Natalie told the story about she and Lestrade running into their exes, which Jasmine and John found hilarious. Soon, everyone had to go off to work and such, so they put the dishes in the sink and changed before going off to start their days.


	20. It's a Date

Natalie spent the rest of that day at work hoping Greg would properly ask her out. They were working together all day on their case, although not much progress was being made. They were still waiting for the test results on the hair Sherlock had found at the last crime scene. 

Finally, as Natalie was packing up for the day, Greg knocked on her open door. 

“Yes?” she asked cautiously. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” 

“Right now?” 

“If you’d like.” 

“It’s a date,” she said with a smile. 

They went to a pub for dinner and beer. When they were finally eating, Natalie decided she should explain her behavior. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been sending you such confusing signals,” she finally said. “I was afraid to be interested in you, given the circumstances. I didn’t know if you would be over your ex or not, and I wasn’t sure if I was over what happened with mine, not to mention us working together on this case.” 

“To be honest, Lyla and I were falling apart long before I found out about Don.” 

“I know exactly what you mean,” Natalie said, relieved. She pretty much felt the same way about Don. “As for us working together, do you think we should keep this quiet around the office?”

“I don’t know about your division, but it won’t be a problem in mine. I’ve got dirt on Anderson and Donovan. One of the advantages of being on the good side of Sherlock Holmes.” 

They had a great evening and then once again Greg insisted on seeing Natalie home. At the door, she hesitated before pulling out her keys. Taking the hint, Greg leaned in and captured her lips. Yes, they’d kissed before, but this was the first time he’d initiated it, as well as the first time it was planned by either of them. Her hands slid up his chest and into his gray hair while his wrapped around her waist. 

They were accidentally interrupted by Jasmine opening the door to take the rubbish out. When she saw her flatmate and the handsome DI standing there, she turned bright red.

“Sorry. Carry on,” she said, closing the door again. The trash could wait. 

“I should go,” Lestrade said. He gave her another kiss and then allowed her into her flat, where much girl talk occurred late into the night.


	21. Sherblocked

The next week and a half were fairly uneventful. No more murders happened and when the test results on the red hair came back, they weren’t helpful. The hair belonged to a woman named Marie Alistair, who had cut off all of her hair recently and donated it to a wig shop. This led Lestrade to believe that the woman committing these crimes was wearing a disguise.

Lestrade and Natalie went on several more lovely dates, and John and Jasmine were spending loads of time together. 

One night, while Natalie was out with Lestrade, John was over to watch a movie with Jasmine. They put in an old movie and cuddled under a blanket. About halfway through the movie, the screen was forgotten. A higher priority had taken precedence, namely kissing. 

Soon, John was sliding his tongue into Jasmine’s mouth and lying them down on the couch. He got an interesting reaction when he gently moved his hand that was on her lower back. He had apparently managed to touch a sensitive area, causing her to exhale into his mouth. She lifted her head to remove his lips from hers so that she could kiss a path down his neck, her fingers playing with his sandy hair. When her mouth reached the collar of his shirt, she began undoing each button until she could slide the garment off his shoulders and then immediately pull his undershirt over his head. 

His lips came down on hers again as her hands began to explore his newly bare torso, and soon his hands were also stroking her chest. 

“Perhaps it would be more comfortable if we had more room,” Jasmine hinted when his lips left hers so that his tongue could run down her neck. Taking the bait, John stood up and they quickly went into Jasmine’s bedroom, where her shirt soon came off before they collapsed onto the bed. 

John’s mouth travelled down her neck and sternum and he was just beginning to place kisses across her cleavage when his phone went off with a text noise. Ignoring it, he reached under Jasmine to unhook her bra, tossing it aside so that his lips’ path would not be blocked, and the phone went off again. He slid up her body and captured her lips languidly again, when the phone went off for a third time. Finally, he groaned in annoyance and rolled off of her to pull his phone out of his pocket. There were three texts from Sherlock. 

Come at once. – SH  
It’s important. – SH  
Quickly. – SH

“Is everything alright?” Jasmine asked, wondering why she was laying there topless and a man was next to her, but not touching her. 

“I’m not sure. It’s Sherlock. He wants me to come at once. Says it’s important.” 

“Oh. I hope everything’s okay. Perhaps you’d better go, then.” 

“It might not be important. He probably just wants to borrow something.” 

“Well, what if he’s in trouble?” Jasmine pointed out. 

“You’re right,” he said, then kissed her soundly. “You have no idea how much I don’t want to go.” 

“I’ll tell you what, if it’s nothing, you’re welcome to come back,” she said, pulling a t-shirt on. John thanked her and went to go put his shirt back on so that he could figure out what his damned flat mate wanted.

*****

 

As John suspected, all Sherlock wanted was to look something up for him because the closest computer was all the way across the room. John tried to argue, tried to explain to Sherlock what he had just stopped doing so that he could send this dumb email, but he knew there was no point. Sherlock would not understand, and it was easier to just do what was asked of him so that he could move on with his life. 

After telling Sherlock that he would be unavailable for the rest of the night, John returned to Jasmine’s. She answered the door in a robe and dragged John back to her bedroom, where she shed the robe to reveal matching blue lacy bra and knickers. John stared with his mouth hanging open for a moment as she went to the bed and reclined on it, inviting him to join her. He scrambled out of his clothes until he was wearing just his boxers, then joined her on the bed, kissing her deeply. 

He stroked the spot on her lower back again as he kissed her neck, and soon her bra was off once more. He replaced it with his hands as she ran hers up and down his back, soon reaching down to pull his boxers off. She could feel his excitement grow as she lifted her hips to press against his, and soon he had removed her knickers and they were finishing what they had started earlier.


	22. Protective Lestrade

The next murder victim happened to be Marie Alistair, the woman who’d donated her hair to make a wig. This confused matters: was the red hair left at the last crime scene a clue to the next victim, or a clue to the killer? Sherlock and Lestrade decided that perhaps it would be best to go to the wig shop Ms. Alistair had donated her hair to and see who had bought the wig.  
Lestrade, Sherlock, and Natalie went to Steve’s Wigs & Toupees. Lestrade flashed his badge and asked Steve, the owner, to look up who had bought the wig made from Marie Alistair’s hair. Natalie, who wasn’t needed at that exact moment, began looking around the shop. 

While Steve was looking up the information, a man in a ski mask came in, pointing a gun at everyone. 

“Give me all the money in the register!” the guy said. 

“Who robs a wig shop?” Natalie blurted out incredulously. 

“Do you know how much these things cost?” the guy asked her. “Now shut up and get on the ground!” he said, pointing his gun straight at Natalie’s head. She held up her hands in surrender. Why hadn’t she brought her gun? 

Lestrade pulled out his gun, pointing it at the guy. “Put down the weapon, sir,” Lestrade said calmly. 

“No, you put down the weapon,” the guy said, a bit hesitantly. “Put down your gun and give me the money, and I won’t shoot red over here.” 

Lestrade pulled out his badge again, showing it to the guy with his gun still pointed at him. While he was doing this maneuver, he slowly began walking toward Natalie. Thinking this was a good idea, Natalie also pulled out her ID. 

“She’s not doing anything to get in your way, so why don’t you leave her alone?” Lestrade said calmly, still slowly walking with his badge in one hand and his gun in the other, until he was standing in front of Natalie to block her. “Stay behind me,” he instructed her. 

Finally, the guy gave up and put his gun on the floor. Lestrade cuffed him and called for someone else to come pick him up. 

They got the name of the woman who had bought the wig and were on their way. It had been a long day, so they decided to call it a day and investigate tomorrow. 

Greg accompanied Natalie to her flat and went inside with her. Jasmine was nowhere in sight – she must have been out with John somewhere, or at 221B. Natalie made some tea to relax them after such a stressful day. They drank their tea and when they finished, they just talked about what had just happened. 

“You don’t ever expect that when you go to interrogate a wig shop owner, you’ll stumble into a robbery,” Natalie said. “And of course it would happen the day I don’t take my gun with me. He did not appreciate my attitude.” 

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you,” Greg promised. 

“I know. You were all strong and protective…it was kind of a turn-on,” she said suggestively. “In fact, I think I should show you,” she added, getting off the couch and taking his hand to pull him toward her bedroom. 

Once behind the closed door, she grabbed the sides of his open jacket to pull his mouth down to hers. The kissing was fairly frantic from the get-go, tongues quickly beginning to explore as Natalie slid the jacket off of Greg’s shoulders. Wanting to be as close to him as possible – holy shit, how did he smell so good? – she wrapped her legs around his waist and he walked them over to the bed. 

While they were walking to the bed, he unzipped her pencil skirt and pulled her shirt out from under it. They collapsed onto the bed and Natalie immediately began undoing the buttons of Greg’s shirt while they kissed, finally discarding it. They stopped kissing so that they could breathe for a moment, and Lestrade took this opportunity to work on her buttons now, kissing across her cheek as he did. When he got to her ear, he took her earlobe into his mouth for a moment, making her moan. 

Finally, he got her buttons undone and tossed the shirt away, pulling the skirt off as well since it was already unzipped. His hands explored her body while he kissed a line down her neck. Meanwhile, her hands were hastily undoing his belt so that she could push his pants off, revealing his black boxers. 

He undid her bra and replaced it with his hands, sucking on her earlobe and finally running his teeth over it, until Natalie was practically trembling with desire. She retaliated by running her hand down his chest, down his stomach, and finally over the front of his boxers, making him groan lustfully against her neck. They quickly rid each other of the last garments and Natalie showed him exactly how much she’d liked him protecting her from the robber that day.


	23. Morning Sexy Times

John was very happy to wake up the next morning next to a beautiful naked woman. He couldn’t resist stroking her hair and giving her a kiss on the cheek before starting to get up. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, waking up from his touch. 

“I was just going to make coffee,” he said. 

“No,” she disagreed, pulling him back down by the hand. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

He got back under the covers to kiss her soundly, and was surprised when she flipped them over and straddled him. She saw his pupils dilate when she took control of the situation, holding his wrists down while she kissed the soft skin below his ear. 

“I suppose coffee can wait,” he said weakly as she sucked on his neck. 

When she began kissing down his chest, she felt his excitement grow against her leg. She spent the rest of the morning giving him a wonderful alternative to coffee. 

Soon afterward, they were cuddled up happily, his hand stroking up and down her arm. Much to his annoyance, his phone went off. He grabbed it off the side table, although he knew it was Sherlock summoning him before he even looked at it. 

“Jasmine…would you hate me very much if I had to go?” 

“No, not very much, I’d only hate you a little,” she teased. 

“I suppose that’s better than some,” he sighed. 

“I’m kidding, I could never hate you, John Hamish Watson,” she said, running her fingers over his chest. “What kind of girls are you used to, anyway?” 

“The kind who want me to choose them over Sherlock Holmes.” 

“I would never ask you to do that; that would be manipulative. Besides, he’s your best friend. I couldn’t trust a man who isn’t there for his best friend.” 

“Amazing,” he said, shaking his head while he started getting dressed. 

“What’s amazing?” 

“You are,” he said. “I suppose I’d better hurry, or he’ll toss my computer into the fire.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing, never mind. I’ll call you later?” 

“On one condition.” 

“What’s that?” he asked. 

“You have to kiss me before you leave.” He did, in fact, kiss her quite thoroughly before going to make sure Sherlock didn’t burn any more of his belongings.


	24. Files in Folders

After days of digging, it was finally determined that the woman who bought Marie Alistair’s wig did not exist. Nothing could be found on her before the last couple of months. There was no identification on record, only a recently owned bank account and a couple of credit card receipts, one of them being from the wig shop. Lestrade, Natalie, and Sherlock mulled over this information for hours. Finally Sherlock came to a conclusion. 

“It’s Moriarty.” 

“Yeah, I know, you already said it’s a woman working with Moriarty,” Lestrade said, confused. 

“No, he’s the one who’s been doing this. It’s been him the whole time,” Sherlock clarified. 

“I thought you said it was a woman,” Lestrade said, still not understanding. 

“Yes…he’s been pretending to be a woman. But why? He had to know I’d be—ahhh! It’s another game. Yes, it’s all been part of it, the perfume, the high heels, the nail varnish, the hair. It was all part of his game, you see.” Sherlock got a text. 

Very good! - JM

“He was pretending to be a woman just to mess with you?” Natalie asked incredulously. “Who is this guy, some kind of crazy obsessed fanboy?” 

“You have no idea,” John said. “He pretended to be gay and gave Sherlock his number once.” 

“Are you sure he was pretending?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrows. John shrugged. 

“How do we catch him?” Lestrade asked. 

“I’m the only one who can come close,” Sherlock said. “Now that I’ve figured it out, the game is over.” 

“So, what, we just let it go and wait for him to find some other sick way to entertain himself?” 

Sherlock didn’t answer this question – he had just received a text and was reading it. Finally, he spoke again, completely off-topic. 

“Well, I’d better be off. My brother is in my flat and I’d better get back before he eats all of Mrs. Hudson’s cake,” he said, as if seeing his brother were the most trying experience in the world. 

“Wait…Sherlock!” Lestrade called after him. “We’re not done! What about Moriarty?” However, the consulting detective was gone. 

“I suppose I’ll find my own way home, then,” John said resignedly, as if this happened to him all the time. As he left the room, he continued muttering, “At least I know Mycroft won’t be picking me up and taking me to a shady warehouse today. I could have stayed in bed with my girlfriend all afternoon, but no, I had to come here instead because Sherlock wanted me to, and then he just leaves me here. We could ride back together, but he has to run off…”

“Well, now what?” Natalie asked. 

“I say we deal with the rest of this tomorrow. As for right now, I’m thinking I’d like to take those clothes off of you and put my…” he began, a wicked look on his face, but Anderson walked in. “…file in your…folder.” He finished. 

They left to go back to Greg’s flat where they spent the rest of the night in bed with no clothes on.


	25. Disaster Date 3: Kidnapped

John had decided to take Jasmine on a nice, romantic carriage ride. However, this, like his other dates, did not go as planned. Everything was fine as he paid the driver, helped Jasmine into the carriage, and hopped in himself. The beginning of the ride was even perfectly fine. However, soon the carriage took a couple of turns that did not seem like a normal path through London. 

“Excuse me, sir…I think you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere,” John said. However, he was surprised when someone from behind put a blindfold over his eyes. He heard Jasmine scream in surprise next to him. She must have been blindfolded too. “Of course,” he said. These sorts of things always happened to him at the worst times. He hadn’t even been aware that anybody else was on this carriage. They must have been hiding in the back. “Look, whoever you are, please just take me and let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” 

Instead of an answer, John just felt the cold metal of a gun on his temple. Jasmine’s gasp led him to believe that she was being held at gunpoint as well. 

“Please – she doesn’t know anything. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’ll cooperate if you just let her go.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” the carriage driver said. “I’m under strict orders to take both you and the girl.” 

“Jasmine?” John asked. 

“Yes?” 

“I promise to get you out of this, no matter what happens. You will be safe.” 

She reached over and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his to assure him that she was okay for the moment. They continued riding in this manner, blind and at gunpoint, until the carriage stopped. More than once John had considered pushing Jasmine out of the carriage so that she could get away, and jumping off himself, but he was too afraid that they might shoot before anyone could escape. Now, they were being led who knew where, on foot, a gun in the middle of each of their backs. 

They were put into chairs, and tied up, and then there was silence, save the footsteps of a guard they knew was still in the room. All they had to do was wait until something happened.


	26. Office Sexy Times

Lestrade was still trying to figure out how to get Moriarty. He was tired of this psycho walking free so that he could keep on murdering. After hours of searching, he had quite a headache and rested his head in his hands, elbows on the desk, while he tried to massage it away. 

“You can’t find anything either?” Natalie’s voice asked from the open doorway. 

“Nothing. You’ve been looking too?” 

“Yeah. This guy’s a genius. Crazy, but a genius.” 

“He’s given me more than one headache like this, I’ll tell you that,” Greg agreed. Natalie closed his door, locked it, and started closing all the blinds on the windows of his office. “What are you doing?” 

“Well, first of all, it might help if you don’t have that bitchy cop and idiotic forensics guy interrupting you every five seconds,” she said, coming behind him to rub his shoulders. He sighed at the feeling of some of the tension being rubbed away. “Secondly,” she said, running her hands down his chest and undoing the top button of his shirt as she placed a kiss on his neck, “I know a good way of relieving stress, and I don’t think you want to give your entire division a show.” She continued kissing down his neck while undoing his buttons from behind. 

“Here?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Do you have any better ideas?” she asked, running her tongue along the skin where neck meets shoulder. 

“No, your idea is perfect,” he said weakly, spinning his chair around to face her. He grabbed her waist to pull her closer, capturing her mouth while he started working on the buttons of her shirt. She climbed into his lap, straddling him, while he pushed her shirt away. She also pushed his shirt and jacket off in one motion. Their tongues were exploring each other’s mouths while he hiked her skirt up, then began undoing his own pants with one hand while the other unhooked her bra. When his pants and boxers were pulled down enough to be out of the way, he began nibbling at the skin of her upper chest, then soon moved her knickers out of the way so that she could cure his headache as soon as possible. 

 

A while later, they were putting their discarded clothes back on. 

“Let’s go get some lunch,” Natalie suggested. 

“You had the same idea I did,” he said, still a bit flushed from the wonderful headache cure. 

When they were decent again, they opened the door and stepped out of the office, but hadn’t made it another step before someone came behind each of them, covering their mouths with cloths. As his vision started to fade, Lestrade had time to wonder where everyone else in the office was. Someone must have caused a distraction to pull them all away, and then…that was as far as he got before everything went black.


	27. Crazy Moriarty is Crazy

Lestrade awoke with a start. He couldn’t see, but he knew that he was tied to a chair and blindfolded. 

“Hello? Where am I?” 

“Greg?” a voice asked. 

“John Watson?” 

“Yes. They got you, too?” 

“Yeah, and Natalie…oh my god. Natalie?” 

“I’m right here,” she replied. 

“Natalie’s here?” a female voice asked. 

“Jasmine, is that you?” 

“Yes, John and I were taken at gunpoint in a carriage.” 

“Greg and I were chloroformed walking out of his office.” 

“What do you think this is about?” 

No one could answer before their blindfolds were removed as a familiar dark-haired, dark-eyed man in an incredibly nice suit entered. Red dots of light began roaming over them. 

“Hi, everyone!” he said in a sweet, cheery voice with a charming smile. “I haven’t gotten to meet some of you yet, although I do have to say, Natalie, you and Greg put on quite a show this afternoon.” Natalie felt sick when she realized that he had seen their office sex. 

“Please tell me this is not the evil genius we’ve been trying to hunt down,” Natalie said to Greg. 

“I’m not what you expected?” Moriarty asked, guessing her thoughts. “Yes, well, I’m not exactly like other people, am I? Oh, but I’ve been rude. I’m Jim Moriarty. Hiii!” 

“Why are you doing this?” Greg asked. 

“You mean you haven’t figured it out?” Moriarty asked, looking amused. “Sherlock can tell you. Can’t you, Sherlock?” he said, a bit louder, looking around. When there was no answer, he looked a bit disappointed. “Well, that’s odd…I thought he’d be here by now. Maybe I’ve overestimated your boyfriend, Johnny boy.” John looked unfazed, but unamused by this. “Ah, but there’s trouble in paradise. Maybe Sherly’s jealous. I can’t say I blame you, though,” he added, standing in front of Jasmine and eyeballing her body in a way that made her feel like she needed a shower. 

“You’re wrong,” a deep voice said from a dark corner. “I couldn’t be happier for John.” 

“Ah, there you are. It took you long enough,” Moriarty said impatiently, turning to see Sherlock come out of the shadows. 

“Are we done here?” Sherlock asked calmly. 

“Not quite,” Moriarty replied. Just then, his phone began ringing out ‘Stayin’ Alive’ by The Beegees. 

“Nice ringtone,” Natalie said sarcastically. Moriarty answered his phone. 

“Hello?...Now?...Ugh. Okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up. “Sorry, Sherlock. I’ve just got so much to do. We’ll have to pick this back up later. Tootles!” 

Moriarty left and the lights from the snipers disappeared. Sherlock rushed first to John, untying him quickly with long, thin fingers. When John was free, he started untying Jasmine while Sherlock started on Greg. Soon, all four of the captives were free, and everyone went off to go have some tea to calm down after such an upsetting experience.


	28. Handcuffed

Natalie went to Greg’s place with him and he made them some tea. They cuddled on the couch while they drank it, and Natalie couldn’t help but notice that Greg was somewhat quiet. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“I’m starting to wonder if I’m a very good detective inspector,” he said, putting his empty teacup down. “I can never catch Moriarty, and I need Sherlock to solve a lot of my cases.” 

“A lot of investigators hire consultants. I think you’re a great DI,” she said, also putting her cup down and giving him a kiss. 

“You really think so?” he asked. 

“I do.” She kissed him deeply for a few minutes, then came up for air and pulled him up by the hand. “Detective Inspector, I have a confession to make.” 

“Do you?” he asked, his pupils dilating at the tone of her voice. 

“I’m having very bad thoughts and I think I need to be cuffed before I do something terrible,” she said, pulling him toward the bedroom. 

“What kind of thoughts?” he asked, standing in what he liked to think of as his ‘man in charge’ stance, since she seemed to like the DI role playing. 

“Well,” she said, lying on the bed and unbuttoning her shirt slowly. “I can’t stop thinking about something naughty I did in an office at New Scotland Yard earlier today.” 

“That is quite the confession,” he said authoritatively as she discarded her shirt. She began sliding off her skirt as she continued. 

“So, you see, if you don’t keep me under control, there’s no saying what I might do.” She unhooked her bra and got it away, and then removed her knickers. “I think it’s best if you handcuff me, before I do something bad.” 

Natalie could see Lestrade’s excitement growing through his pants at the sight of her naked on the bed, asking to be handcuffed. 

“I suppose that’s best,” he said, pulling out his handcuffs and cuffing her wrists to the headboard. “As for what you did at New Scotland Yard today, you’ll have to be punished for that.” 

“I thought as much,” she said wickedly. Lestrade removed his jacket and got on the bed with her, looking her in the eyes while he ran his hands up her thighs, over her hips, up her torso. One of his hands left her body to begin undoing the buttons on his shirt one-by-one, the other hand exploring her. He got his shirt off and leaned over to bite down hard on her earlobe, making her strain against the handcuffs. 

His mouth started moving down her neck, across her collarbone. He undid his belt and tossed it away. He ran his tongue down her sternum as he started undoing his pants, and kissed lower as he pushed them off. He was making his way down her stomach and had kissed just low enough when he finally removed his boxers. 

He continued teasing her with his mouth and hands until he couldn’t take it anymore and decided she’d been punished enough for being such a bad girl.


	29. John Gets Some

Meanwhile, John had taken Jasmine back to her flat and they also had tea. 

“All I wanted was to take you on one good date,” John said sadly. “I should have known the first time this happened.” 

“This has happened before?” 

“Things like this happen all the time when you know Sherlock Holmes,” he informed her. 

“Well, my life has certainly gotten more exciting since I met you.” 

“There have to be guys who would take you on better dates than I ever could,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, there are…but you’re not getting rid of me, John Watson.” 

“Even after being kidnapped by a psychopath?” 

“I know…I must be insane,” she joked. “I know you’re a wonderful man, John. Do you know how I know?” He shook his head. “You see, you can never tell what kind of a person someone is when things are going perfectly. If we’d had a lovely, relaxing carriage ride, I’d never have seen how brave you are, and wouldn’t have heard you try to protect me. I wouldn’t know how much you care about me. You were willing to give yourself up to them, no questions asked, to keep me safe.” 

“Yes, I would have,” he said, as if this should be obvious. 

“The other girls you’ve dated are wrong. Sherlock isn’t the only person you care about. You care about everyone.” 

“Still…is there any way I can make it up to you?” he asked. “Preferably something that doesn’t involve going out anywhere?”

Jasmine smiled and kissed him lovingly, then whispered in his ear,

“Make love to me.” 

John decided he could definitely handle this request and got up, scooped Jasmine into his arms, and carried her to her bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed and followed her down, kissing her passionately while she pulled his jumper off over his head and began unbuttoning the shirt beneath. 

He slid his hands under her to stroke the spot on her back that drove her crazy, placing kisses along her neck until she was breathing heavily. The now-shirtless John ran his hand up her thigh, up under her skirt while the other hand unzipped her dress. When he got the garment off, he rid himself of his pants so that they were both clad only in undergarments. 

John continued the progression of events by placing kisses all over her body, slowly exploring. Before long, he removed all of the remaining garments and made up for every bad experience he’d shown her.


	30. Jaime from IT

Anderson looked around in the bar. Just his luck: his wife and Donovan were both out of town. Perhaps he could find a woman here to take home. He saw a redhead sitting at the bar. Five feet, eight inches tall. High heels. Great legs. Red nail varnish. What a babe. 

As he approached her, he could smell her musky perfume. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked. She turned to face him, and he thought the dark brown eyes looked familiar, but he couldn’t place them. 

“Hey, don’t you work at New Scotland Yard?” she asked. 

“Why, yes, I do,” he said, puffing up his chest. 

“I work there too,” she crooned. “I’m Jaime. From IT.”


End file.
